


The First Fall

by Geradsredskittle666



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Actually ADHD writer, Anxious Aziraphale (Good Omens), Author Projecting onto Aziraphale (Good Omens), Author Projecting onto Crowley (Good Omens), Autistic Aziraphale (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale is Bad at Being an Angel (Good Omens), Crisis of Faith, Crowley Has ADHD (Good Omens), Crowley Has PTSD (Good Omens), Crowley Has Self-Esteem Issues (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley is Bad at Feelings (Good Omens), Crowley is a Mess (Good Omens), Hurt Aziraphale (Good Omens), Loss of Faith, M/M, Protective Crowley (Good Omens), The Author Regrets Nothing, actually autistic writer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:49:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26373751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Geradsredskittle666/pseuds/Geradsredskittle666
Summary: Aziraphale is attacked. Crowley, being not nice, comes to his rescue and cuddles his angel. Pairings: Crowley/Azirphale preslash. Warnings: Questioning of faith, loss of faith, physical assault, main character injury, two male characters cuddling, bonded pair behaviour.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 45





	The First Fall

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Good Omens and its trademarks and other properties are not my property. I do not make and do not intend to profit from this work in any way. This work is a fan creation using these characters in a creative work intended as entertainment only.   
> I do not give permission for anyone to take this work and post it elsewhere, unless explicitly given permission from me. If linked, shared or given permission to repost in any amount of words, credit must be correctly given to me as the author of this work and the rightful owners of Good Omens as the owners of source material.

Aziraphale couldn’t ever remember being so terrified ever. As the angels, and some of Heavens finest ones at that, surrounded him in a way that could only be bad and frankly, a great deal more than mildly threatening; he felt suddenly afraid of them.

Perhaps it had been living with the humans that had taught him fear, because it mostly didn’t exist in heaven. Well he hadn’t thought so anyway. He had only ever seen disapproval and disappointment in his time above. Though reflecting back, maybe he hadn’t been looking too hard. Maybe he had been so focused on making a good impression or trying to get rid of that disapproval in Archangel Micheal's eyes...or the pity in the eyes of the angels he met. He had earned a reputation as a “good angel at heart” which was heaven speak for an angel who had the best intentions but always failed turn these these intentions into meaningful actions. Despite all the good he had tried to do, it was never “what God wanted”. But had any of them even spoken to God? Like in person and not just her voicemail?

So when the angels, being of angelic stock and angelic duty, held him in place and started to punch him; he surprised himself. He hadn’t really expected any better, he had hoped for better of course. That was all it was. Hope. And hope was just something humans used to deceive themselves into thinking things could be better than they were, and sometimes the humans were right. Hope had lead to great invention and determination. Even survival in some humans. But sometimes the situation was much worse than humans wanted to know or see, so they ignored the bad and focused entirely on the illusion that hope provided. They entirely neglected the reality. And he had been doing the same.

Heaven just wasn’t what he had hoped. That thought hit with all the impact that had been held back by this particular brand of hope. Aziraphale couldn’t help but cry. He didn’t waste time on thinking on how stupid he had been. He _would have_ , but then he heard the ugly laughs of the angels around him. He remembered the condescending looks, the whispers, the pitying looks, the brush offs, the superior smirks and the laughter when no one thought he had heard...it was like all the humiliation had been sharpened to a sword.

A sword that _could_ harm them. To take his vengeance with. To make them take it all back. To make them _beg_ for _his_ forgiveness. However his nature was inherently non violent, so he used his new found clarity to reshape this power. He hadn’t _wanted_ the angels to be harmed, just _scared away_. He _didn’t want_ vengeance, not really. He _didn’t want_ to cause them pain. Even if it had been earned. Its not that he would have felt _too_ guilty, but it was against what he knew angels stood for. It was against what he stood for. He _wanted to_ put aside his vicious anger and forgive. He didn’t want the darkness to follow him. He wanted to be free of it just as much. So he knew what to do. A prayer to a demon. _His demon._

It didn’t take long before he felt an overwhelmingly powerful demonic presence and his angel instincts put him on edge, but then he relaxed upon recognising the demons energy. Had he looked up, he would have seen Crowley. A Crowley that was angrier than he had ever seen. A Crowley that was ready to kill some angels. A truly demonic Crowley. A Crowley that was ready to trade his gentle (but demonic) soul for his (angel) friends life. Yet some part of him must have held back, for no angels died (or were truly harmed).

The minute Crowley felt it, he used his demonic powers to find his angel. Aziraphale’s cry for help had been so sincere, so pained. It made him angry. No, furious! It made his blood boil in all the best ways a demons could. Someone had _hurt_ his angel. Someone _was_ hurting his angel. _His_ angel! How _dare_ they! He allowed the anger to flow through him, waking parts of him that he rarely used. Demonic parts. Demonic powers that he had held back. Demonic power that not been released in millenia! And it filled his being with all the eagerness of a long held back power. Ready to be released. Ready to kill. Ready to make others cry in pain. Ready to exact his vengeance.

So when he appeared, he still _looked_ human, however his eyes _burned_ with the promise of vengeance. He burned with power. He burned with glorious purpose. The power cackled and sizzled in the air. The angels had noticed him but hadn’t looked up. Were they so stupid? Or perhaps arrogant? Yes, perhaps millennia as the few in such positions of power had made them arrogant. After all, what was Crowley but a lower demon? Not even that since his evil deeds were usually not felt for years. He didn’t cause humans to kill each other in brutal wars or start plagues that wiped out countries. He had always been over looked. Underestimated. It was the best advantage a demon could have.

His heart nearly stopped when he saw Aziraphale, held against the wall while they were beating him. His angel was crying and the despair in his aura was more than the demon could stand. His angel should not be crying. His angel should not be so despairing. His angel should not be so consumed. His angel was too good for them. He sensed that Aziraphale had more than enough power to take the angels out...or at least knock them out. It was just like the angel to refuse to harm others at the risk to his own life. No one should be that good and have to die.

He no longer had words or thoughts. Just reflexes and reactions. Just demonic powers and anger that coursed through his blood like fire. Without so much as a thought, a fireball hit the wall, just above the angels. Enough to warm their wings, but not close enough to burn them to angel bacon. He knew he would never be forgiven for killing the angels if he didn’t have to. Besides, their deaths would pain his angel. How could he justify making his angel cry? So he warned them. It had to be a fair fight after all.

Finally the angels stirred and turned to him. One of the more stupid angels opened their mouth to speak, looking outraged. The female angel, who was obviously the leader, glared at the stupid angel. “Lets go. We will have our war soon enough. Just wait.” she spoke calmly. This was obviously an order, for they vanished, leaving his angel slumped on the ground. Like trash. Fodder for any demon that happened to be around and hungry.

The anger vanished just as quickly, leaving him feeling completely exhausted. He was only vaguely aware of what had just happened. He had to help his angel first. He picked up his angel and carried him into the book shop, locking the door behind him.

He was relieved to find that the angel was physically mostly okay. Just bruises that would be gone in a day. The angel was resting. Still full of sorrow, but much calmer. That calmed the demon for now. Actually he was exhausted too...didn’t Aziraphale keep a bed in the flat upstairs? He lay the angel in the bed, immediately missing the feeling of having Aziraphale in his arms. Maybe he could keep the angel company? After all, his angel _was_ _upset._ There was no harm in that...right? So he slid into the bed beside the angel, making sure he didn’t touch the angel. Just in case his angel would be upset by that. He logically knew that was bullshit but he wasn’t sure he wanted to open _that_ _particular_ _can of worms._ Still he felt the lull of sleep and gave in.

Aziraphale woke up to a pleasant warmth, like a warm fire. He hadn’t remembered going to sleep...but he must have, it was dark...was it night? He then realised that Crowley had his arms protectively around his waist. He realised that Crowley’s head was lying on his chest. The angel could feel the demons soft breaths on his neck. The demon looked peaceful. Like he had managed to forget all his pain. It was breathtaking.

Then the reached out and found that the edge of the darkness felt rather feathery. Crowley’s wings had formed a protective barrier around them (as well as an impressive cocoon of warmth). That was why it had seemed dark. The angel reached out to stroke the wings carefully. They were softer than he had imagined.

Aziraphale felt overwhelmed by tears. Crowley, his best friend and a demon, had felt such a strong urge to protect him that his wings had reacted. It was a huge sign of trust to show his wings. It was almost intimate. And to use them to shield another angel? That was only seen in bonded pairs. Usually couples. Wings just reacted. Wings couldn’t lie. He knew his best friend didn’t normally show such a strong sentiment...or even mild sentiment really. The same demon who was clinging to him tightly in his sleep, his slim but lanky frame wrapped perfectly around the angel. He couldn’t hold back the strong affection for his friend. A human might have called it love. He placed one arm around the demon and with the other, caressed the others soft locks of hair.

They remained that way for another 3 hours. Crowley seemed exhausted. He supposed that saving him might not have been easy. Luckily Crowley didn’t have any bruised or marks. Perhaps the angels had not wanted to risk a fight so close to the end of the world. Heaven was preparing for a battle after all, why get their hands dirty with one demon when they could kill hundreds at the same time?

When Crowley did wake, Aziraphale felt him tense and panic flared in his aura. “I knew I should have taken the lounge...” he spoke, sounding almost heartbroken. Aziraphale felt instantly protective. Did the demon think he would read too much into the situation and reject him? Make him feel embarrassed for loving an angel? Even if his demon loved him, that wasn’t a bad thing. He would not be rejected. Still he must have felt it in the angels aura, for he retracted his wings but remained against the angel’s body. “God damned instincts!” the demon swore quietly. Why had they betrayed him so? What would his angel think now? What would the angel say? Why would anyone want something so broken as a mate?

For once, the angel didn’t correct him. “It’s alright. Really! I’m honoured more than anything else. I mean I’m an angel. I’m not even one of Her favoured angels either...any one of the other angels would have left me there. I’m sure any of the lessor demons might have used it as an opportunity to just kill me. Earn some points Down There. I’m hardly worth the fuss. You still took the time to look out for me...even protect me” Aziraphale spoke softly, the words rushing out. It was the tone that just killed Crowley. Aziraphale spoke as if he was worthless. As if he wasn’t important...and shouldn’t be important. What had those damned angels done to him!

“Don’t let them tell you that you’re worthless!” the demon had growled out. Properly demon growled. It took Crowley a moment to restrain the demon within and calm.

Aziraphale had flinched at the sound. Then tears came to his eyes again. Hot and fast. Overwhelming. Tears of gratitude. The demon really meant it! He really meant what he had said! He had meant the affection and protective actions of last night! He had really meant to keep the angel safe from harm last night! How had had found such a loyal and good companion? And in a demon of all creatures? Then his realisations of Heaven came crashing back down and he cried anew. Tears of pain. This demon was showing more of “heavens mercy” than Heaven ever had. A creature of darkness and temptation. An ‘evil’ creature with an evil heart and a wicked dishonest tongue.

Crowley stared helplessly for a moment. He was out of his league here with all these messy emotions. Was this a good thing? Or bad? Was there something he should be doing or saying? What was expected of him? Comforting didn’t come easy to a demon! This literally wasn’t in his job description! Still he moved so that he held the angel against his form and held him tight. It calmed him too. He tried to make sense of the strange emotions from the angels aura. Pure love, gratitude, disbelief, joy, desperation, betrayal, sadness...what had happened? What had those angels said to him? He tried to calm his own anxiety, unsuccessfully, his friend needed him.

When Aziraphale had stopped crying, he felt strangely lighter. It was like he could breath again. Like he saw the world anew. Like he could finally calm himself. He noticed his friends worry and anxiety straight away. “I’m sorry about all that, Dear.” he apologised. “I guess I could still be surprised.” he spoke gently, but it was tinged with bitterness.

“Surprised?” the demon had answered.

“I hadn’t mean to say that part out loud.” confessed the angel with a blush. “When the ang-...when the ang-...” he shook his head. Why was this so difficult to say? Why did it make his heart pound furiously? “When they had me...” he stopped again. It was infuriating. Why couldn’t he simply state what had happened? Why was that so difficult? It was purely a fact! Why did this ‘fact’ fill him with anxiety and dread?

The demon was giving him an empathetic smile. “When your lot...angels...had you against that wall. When they were punching and kicking a defenceless angel.”he filled in, with understanding. “My lot would have been proud of them.” he reflected with an odd bitterness. “Commendations all around” he finished with sarcasm. The demon could understand. Of course, his companion had thought of no one but others in need for so long that he had become detached from his own pain. It was obvious that he was traumatised, and with good reason. His own side had proven, without doubt, that he wasn’t welcome. He had been training for this last war for as long as Crowley had. It had been ingrained in them. It was their logical futures.

Aziraphale nodded. “Yes. They made me see something I had been avoiding.” he spoke, sighing heavily. “I’ve never been very good at being an angel, I thought it was just me. All the other angels seemed to work it all out. I tried to be everything that I was expected to be...but I just didn’t understand it.” he recalled with guilt. “Maybe it wasn’t me after all. Angels shouldn’t take joy in anothers pain...like they did. Those ones from yesterday I mean. If an angel can be like that, maybe it wasn’t me.” he commented in realisation, sounding like he was afraid to believe them. “I couldn’t even stand the thought of harming them. I had the power to make them stop… maybe even kill them but I just couldn’t. Just the thought of harming any of Her creatures is enough to make me sick. Thats why I called for you. I knew you would want to harm them, but that you wouldn’t. You know I wouldn’t want that. I was counting on that. You would choose to scare them off instead.” he explained calmly. He had known and planned for this. He had used his brain, not his fists. This was his true power.

He found Crowley looking at him with pride and adoration. “Oh Angel, you’re just too amazing. I knew you would get there eventually. Maybe Up There was a paradise at its creation, or maybe it was always closer to a dream than a reality. I knew you would see eventually.” he spoke, brimming with pride. “Though in your defence; you are a dreamer. You always want the best to be true; whether you’re looking a demon or a person, or trying to make sense of Up There” he continued in a soft affection.

Aziraphale was blushing. Was he really amazing? Was being a dreamer really a good thing? His realisations had cost him, and he wouldn’t know just how much until this whole mess was done. Still, if it got Crowley to look at him that way again, he would do anything.

The next words surprised him. “If you ever want to talk about things, you can...uh...talk to me. It can be hard to lose ones faith. To realise that things aren't as they ought to be.” the demon was saying, trying to desperately avoid the f-word. _Fall_. It naturally brought anxieties to his mind.

The angel nodded. “Thanks. I do feel better now. Though you don’t have to go. If you wanted to hang around, you could. You could spend the week...or longer..” he offered, hoping the demon would stay.

“Uh...sure. I guess I could take a break from causing mayhem and mischief. Just a little break can’t hurt.” he accepted.

Neither of them mentioned how either of them hadn’t moved from their positions. The angel still lay against the demon, smiling and taking comfort in the other. It felt so natural that it didn’t seem worth commenting on. They had gone beyond ‘angel and demon’. Beyond ‘natural born enemies’. They were simply ‘Aziraphale and Crowley’.

AN: I just felt the urge to explain “angel bacon”. I was going to use ‘Fried to a crisp’ but then feeling both hungry for a breakfast wrap (‘crispy bacon’) and wrathful to Archangel Micheal (who I love to fry to a crisp with one wrathful glare) and his goons; I immediately thought “angel bacon” and rather liked it. It conveyed my anger at anyone who would dare harm my precious Zira-kun! There it is! Feel free to steal it. It was probably not mine to begin with. And if you wondered, yes I got my breakfast wrap. It was from a lovely cafe that does the best breakfast wraps and coffee around.

I would also like to say how satisfying it is to use the phrase “glorious purpose” (Thanks Loki and by extension Tom Hiddleston who just says it so perfectly!).


End file.
